The Nargles Have Stolen This Title
by editorofthequibbler
Summary: It's over. The War. The death. The hurt. Everything. What has Harry got to live for now? Only one thing. A girl. But which one? This is Harry/Luna, an idea that kind of just came to me. Okay, this is the first fanfic that I have posted online so PLEASE be nice. I have written before, but never fanfiction. So, R&R!
1. Chapter 1: We're free

**It's over. The War. The death. The hurt. Everything. What has Harry got to live for now? Only one thing. A girl. But which one? **

**A/N: This is Huna, an idea that kind of just came to me. Okay, this is the first fanfic that I have posted online so PLEASE be nice. I have written before, but never fanfiction. So, R&R! Will update!**

Chapter 1: We're free

Harry leans back against the wall, sighing. Around him, the world lies in wrack and ruin: smashed statues, battered walls, and lifeless bodies. Bodies. So many dead. But it doesn't hurt anymore. Harry just feels numb. He doesn't feel anything anymore.

He watches with half closed eyes the destruction around him. He can see, tears, red faced students and grieving families. The red headed Weasleys sob over their dead son, and hold his lifeless hand. Lifeless.

If Harry was strong enough, he would wish himself dead. But he can't. He's too weak. Everywhere he looks, everything he can see is dead. Everything.

A creamy skinned, brown eyed beauty sidles up next to him. Her ginger hair bouncing beautifully around her heart shaped face. There are red blotches surrounding her eyes, tears trickling down her face. Her ears are red. The Weasley gene. She doesn't say anything, and Harry is glad of the silence. He feels so empty that he doesn't want to speak.

But then she opens her mouth, and he expects the worst.

"I don't blame you," she says softly, but to him the sound of her voice grates on his brain. "It's not your fault. Not totally."

She doesn't look at him.

"And he's dead and gone, isn't he Harry? You-Know-Who is dead and gone."

Harry eyes her with concealed anger. How dare she?

"Yes," he replies emptily. "He's gone."

"Good," she whispers and gives him a watery smile. "But, I think that we should give this a break. Our relationship, I mean. It's not right when the world is recovering from the darkness, is it?"

It's the first thing he's felt for hours. A stone in the stomach, and he almost doubles over in shock. He's just defeated Lord Voldemort for God's sake and she is _dumping him? _He stares at her.

"You're dumping me?" he manages, choking on his words.

"What?! No," she hurries, panicked. "I just am _suggesting_ that we give this a break. With all the death. And stuff."

"So what? I'm a cast off now?"

She pulls him into a cautious hug, and it takes all of Harry's willpower not to push her away.

"You're never a cast off Harry. Let's just be _friends, _for a while."

It cuts him like _Sectumsempra_.

He looks up to confront her, but she's scurried off. He sighs. It's over.

Then, another girl approaches him. It's Hermione. Her face is red, but there's a large smile playing on her lips.

She doesn't bother to keep quiet.

"We won, Harry! We won," she screeches, and hugs him like teddy bear. She has a horribly huge smile plastered on her face. He wonders why.

She holds his hand for a little too long, and he pulls away from her.

She begins to talk again.

"And it was all you Harry," she gushes. "All you. You saved us all."

There is a pause.

"Not all," he croaks, tears filling his eyes.

She bursts into tears, dramatic and beautiful.

"Oh, Harry! I know how you feel," she wails. She doesn't. "But you tried your best! You really did...and the Lord Voldemort is dead! You are amazing Harry."

He isn't flattered, but smiles anyway.

"Thanks, Mione."

She beams at him and walks away.

"I'll leave you alone," she calls from behind her, waving with impeccable charm. She's gone.

Harry smiles. Finally. Peace.

"Harry!"

Wafting over to her, face pale, black hair swaying like the wind, came Cho.

Harry is fed up now.

"Go, Cho," he mumbled.

She sits down next to him.

"You're wonderful, Harry," she whispers, tapping his hand, and winking knowingly. "That Weasley Girl doesn't know what she's missing."

This statement hovers in the air.

"No," he replied, dully. "No, Cho. I don't see why you need to interfere. Leave me alone. Go, Cho, just go."

Cho stood up suddenly, fire blazing in her eyes.

"Fine, Harry! I'll leave you to wallow in misery!"

Cho wafted off, leaving a faint aroma or oriental flowers in her wake. But Harry didn't notice.

Distant from him, watching with silver eyes like orbs, stands the dirty blonde, smiling serenely as she leans over a casualty to bind up their wound.

"Aaah," she whispers sweetly to herself. "Silly girls. They don't understand."

There was a pause, she looks around herself in obvious confusion.

"The Nargles have got my bandages!"

And Harry, far away from her, sinks down into dark deep blackness once more, dreaming of a place where death is not possible, and he can be normal...


	2. Chapter 2: Fire Angel

**Chapter 2: Fire Angel **

**A/N: Hope you like this!**

"Another Firewhisky, dear?" calls Madame Rosmerta to the sullen figure leaning over the bar.

His black air sticks up wildly, not covering his downcast, piercing green eyes. Harry Potter stares down at the bottom of his tankard and sighs.

He understands why Ginny has left him. She still loves him, he knows that. But ever since the war, the wait for him...she had changed. And he didn't know if it was for the better. Her hair, a fire halo, sways with vigour as she talks, now, and she has such strength now (not that she was ever weak) that it burns a hole in his heart. Every speech, every sentence: her face a mask of brave ideas, her smile soft and tender. Not a single tear shed. And he hates her for it. He hates the fact that she never ever breaks down when she talks about the funerals, he hates the fact she organizes sensible meetings to talk about the future of the school. He loves the fact that she smiles at him with love and understanding, he loves the fact she winks knowingly when she jokes around with him, he loves-no. No, he is thinking about his hate for her, not his love, he decides angrily. He can't love Ginny. Ginny, the angel with the halo of flames, and the brown chocolate eyes, with the creamy, delicate skin: someone he can't love. She'd been hurt too much by the war to love. Surely?

"Mr Potter? Another Firewhisky, perhaps? Mr Potter?"

Madame Rosmerta leans over and shakes his shoulder, full of concern.

He glances up and nods.

"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks," he smiles, and then he thinks better of it. "Actually, I think I'd better be getting back. Thanks, anyway."

Madame Rosmerta is actually quite relieved. The last thing she wants is the Boy who Lived drunk. In her Pub. It's bad for business, not to mention bad for his reputation. She doesn't want to be remembered as the woman who got Harry Potter raging drunk. All sorts of bad publicity.

"Ah, that's fine, Mr Potter. Have a nice day."

Mr Potter gives a half-hearted smile, and falters slightly before disapparating.

"On second thoughts, why don't I have one more...?"

Madame Rosmerta glances up from the tankards she is washing and shakes her head furiously.

"Bad for your reputation, Harry, I'm afraid."

_Worse for my business,_ she adds as an afterthought, but doesn't voice this opinion.

He nods, resignedly, and disappears with a loud, resounding CRACK!

It's two weeks after the war, and the Wizarding World is desperately trying to rebuild itself. It will, in time: but so much doubt, anger and frustration lingers in the air, that it's almost comical. Many people refuse to believe that Lord Voldemort is dead, and Harry has already been confronted several times by terrified civilians who have even tried to capture him: just in case Lord Voldemort still lives.

Every day for two weeks, all of his friends, and Harry himself, have been tidying up the school. In several months it will be ready to open up again. But Harry didn't want to tidy today, so slipped into The Three Broomsticks for a way to forget, and enjoy himself for once. He didn't tell the others.

Harry arrives at the Burrow, and sees the lights are on. He doesn't know whether to pleased or frustrated. Dusk is closing in on him, and he is getting cold. He heads up to the door and knocks: harsh sharp things that don't seem friendly at all. The door is opened by Ron, who immediately grins.

"Hi Harry, mate! Bloody Hell, we had no idea where you'd headed off to! Tell us next time, okay?"

He doesn't nod his consent, but Ron lets him in anyway. They are all sitting at the table enjoying some kind of Vegetable Stew, a lot of them, not just Weasleys. At the head of this table, perching on a small, cushioned stool, sits his Fire Angel, rapidly engaged in conversation with Seamus Finnigan.

_What is he doing here?_ Thinks Harry, bitterly, as he mutters his greetings.

"Hi Harry," ventures Hermione nervously.

"Greetings Harry!" calls the confident Angel, who flicks her hair beautifully, and shoots him a sweet smile. "We're just talking about Hogwarts! McGonagall will be here soon. We're talking about setting up temporary education, for the likes of me, people below the Seventh Year. Maybe in the Grounds of Hogwarts!"

Harry nods, and eyes the Fire Angel, who is flushed with eager ideas: not a single tear.

"You can sit there, next to Luna, Harry," adds Mr Weasley, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

Harry does so.

"Hi Harry! No one really wanted to sit next to me, because, even after the war, they think I'm mad," Luna greets, waving her brittle, pale fingers vaguely.

Everyone blushes and looks away.

"Apart from Hermione..." adds Luna.

She's loony as ever, dirty blonde hair and large blue eyes, pools in a pensieve. She wears her Father's huge Deathly Hallows necklace, and the Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem Replica, that her Father has (re)made. She's modified it slightly, he notices. It's got strange sparks flying off it now, which makes Hermione (who is sitting on her other side) jump every other second. She also seems to be wearing her signature Radish Earrings, and her dress looks like it's been made of shredded paper.

Harry's always liked Luna, so he smiles before sitting down.

"Hi, Luna."

She grins.

"I think it's a really good idea to have temporary education. We should improve it too! Maybe we could study the Crumple Horned Snorkack in Care of Magical Creatures, or analyse people for signs of Wrackspurts. I've got loads of ideas."

Harry's Flame Angel smirks.

"I'm not sure Loony-I mean, Luna," she replies. "You know Crumple Horned Snorkacks don't exist, right? Can you please be sensible? No more stupid ideas?"

Luna is quiet now, so Ginny finishes there, and swallows a large spoonful of soup.

Luna doesn't say anything, but she isn't eating, just twirling her spoon carefully, head bowed half low. She's stooped ever so normally over her soup, but he knows that the short, snappy Ginny outburst, though not that mean, has hurt her. He frowns.

"Ginny," he says.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Ginny," he continues. "Luna's our friend."

Ginny looks surprised, as if she has no idea what's coming.

"Loony? Yeah, she's our friend."

Harry frowns.

"She's not loony. She's perfectly sane, here, altogether and normal. You don't have to make fun of what she believes in, even if it is Crumpled Horned Snorlacks-!"

"It's Snorkacks, Harry," Luna reprimanded gently. "Crumple Horned Snorkacks!"

"-Yeah, thanks Luna, but I am on a bit of a roll now... So what if she likes Crumple Horned Snorbacks?! I mean she's got perfect righ-"

"Crumple Horned Snorkacks, Harry. Say it with me, Harry, I'll help you remember," she smiles serenely. "Snor-kacks. Snor with a Kack at the end..."

She trails off, dreamily smiling.

Harry blinks. Then continues.

"-She's got perfect right to believe in them! And, you know what? I hope these, Snorkacks" He glanced at Luna to see if he was correct. "I hope these Snorkacks, I hope they're real-to prove you, everyone, wrong!"

Ginny is still for a second. Her brown eyes flicker, but still...still!...she does not cry.

"Okay, Harry," she smiles, her voice filled with renewed energy, not even slightly quavering. "Thank you for voicing your opinion, after all, everyone has a voice!"

Frowning, Harry glances around himself. What?

Ginny continues smiling sweetly.

"It is a very interesting point. Thank you. You may sit down now."

Harry frowns. And gingerly he sits down on his chair again. What is she playing at?

The rest of the meeting is like this. She's sweetly cold, nodding and smiling and carefully calling Luna by her proper name.

By the time the meeting is finished, Harry is left guilty and frustrated, with a sour taste in the mouth. He doesn't understand her. His Fire Angel. She was mean. Mean to dreamy, thoughtful Luna, who looks at Ginny with friendship glistening in her deep, blue eyes.

Harry shakes his head in frustration. Why is he thinking about Luna? He should be thinking of his girlfriend! His Firey Girlfriend. His firey ex-girlfriend, he adds sourly. Damn.

And he was thinking about Luna? What was wrong with him?


	3. Chapter 3: Lipgloss, Eyeshadow and

**A/N: This is my 3rd Chapter. I really appreciated reviews, as long as they are friendly and no hate. Quite a short one, I'm afraid. This one kinda sorts out Harry's Ginny Problem (well, not for him, but for the reader.) It reveals Ginny's secret. I don't know who I want Hermione to end up with though. What do you think? I've had review complaining about the fact that there's no breaks in this chapter. Sorry about this: technical issues. So I've sorted it out. xx**

**Chapter 3 Lipgloss, Eyeshadow and The Chosen One **

Hermione Granger sits in Ginny's room at The Burrow, talking about Harry Potter. She's curled up on Ginny's bed, chatting quietly: half hoping that Harry will hear as she smooths her hair with her hands. Ginny, cool and collected, listens patiently as she applies mascara, peering at her reflection in the floor length mirror.

"What do you think, Ginny? About Harry? I can't believe you dumped him!"

Ginny scowls. "I didn't dump him," she says, irritably. "I hadn't seen him for bloody ages and I had mixed feelings for him: especially with everything going on. I mean, I like Harry. I'll always have feelings for him. But they've diminished slightly. Absence _does not_ make the heart grow fonder, you know Hermione."

Hermione seems to think about this for a bit. "So you're not still going out...?"

Ginny sighs, frustrated. "Pass me the lip gloss. No, not that one, it makes me look like a Banshee...no, the one you're sitting on-yes, that's it!" Ginny applies the gloss carefully. "No, in answer to your question. I'm not still going out with him. I thought I'd explained that already. You're getting thick Hermione, I've spelled it out for you enough times!"

Hermione flushes, and anger rises in her eyes.

"And you're getting mean! What is it with you? You've been a bitch ever since the Great War! It's like you yammer on with this fake, cheery organizational attitude, pretending it's okay and all skipping through the daisies when it's not! Sometimes you can't just cover it all up! Sometimes you need to cry! You were plain horrible to Luna at that meeting, you know."

Ginny frowns, upset. "I don't know, Mione. I just want to move on."

Hermione laughs bitterly.

"So Harry's single then?"

Ginny nods.

"D'you think I've made a huge mistake, Mione? Maybe, I should have just kissed him and carried on? Or waited for a while, a few weeks or months after the War before I broke it up with him...?"

Hermione snorts. "Well, what you did certainly wasn't very tactical. He's off drowning his sorrows in Firewhisky and Pumpkin Pasties, whilst you're busying about acting as if nothing has happened..."

Ginny sighs again, near tears. "I bloody hate this whole lovey dovey business. I just want things to be normal again between us." "Normal? Normal, as in, boyfriend-girlfriend normal? Or normal as in friends? That kind of normal? Or the kind of normal that Harry wants...?"

Hermione stands up and examines the selection of make up on Ginny's dressing table.

"Can I borrow this eye shadow?"

Ginny, now casting a spell on her hair, nods reluctantly.

"Yeah, but put it back," she says, turning back to the mirror. "Normal as in friends. The kind of normal I want." There is a pause. "The truth is, Mione, I've met a...I've met another boy."

Hermione Granger, well known for her calm, collective attitude and sensible manner, jumped about two foot in the air and screams, "WHAT THE...?!"

Desperately, Ginny presses a finger to her lips.

"Ssssh...ssssh! Yes, I have, okay?" she whispers urgently. "I'd appreciate it if you just shut up about it."

"Who?" Hermione hisses, amazed at Ginny's confession. She almost drops the eyeshadow, and now stands frozen, shocked.

Ginny allows herself to grin.

"You know Seamus Finnigan? Well, we really got talking whilst everything was happening with Voldemort and stuff. He was lovely about...well, everything. Seriously, Hermione, we started off as friends. I never meant to cheat on Harry in any way. But...but...but I really got close to him. And we, y'know, snogged and stuff. I felt so guilty! That's why I thought I'd better break it off with Harry as soon as possible. Because I thought it would be easier for him and me. Turns out, just for me."

Hermione stands, aghast.

"Seamus Bloody Finnigan? Against Harry Potter? The bloody Chosen One dumped for Seamus Finnigan? Why, Ginny? You had Harry!"

Ginny smiles wearily, defeated now.

"I don't know, Hermione...I just don't think Harry's the one. And maybe Seamus is."

Hermione shrugs.

"Your loss," she says finally.

She turns around and walks out of the room, shocked and slightly angry. And Ginny Weasley, who has not shed a single tear since the war, puts her head in her hands and cries for all she is worth.

**A/N:Hope you enjoyed! I am going to start a Blaise/Hermione thing. (I love Dramione but it's so overdone.) Would you read? Tell moi**!


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